Lost is found

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When my mother turned 60, she and Daddy took my sister, my uncle, ThrillCam and me to Italy. It was the trip of a lifetime. Fabulous scenery, history, and, of course, food.

Oh, the food.

But, that’s another post.

One of my most treasured memories of that trip was the day we got “lost” in Venice. My mother, sister and husband went with me to find a little Venetian shop that made masks. I was on a mission. I wanted an authentic, handmade Venetian mask.


Long before we had smart phones with GPS, we searched for the shop using a poorly printed map of Venice.

We walked down long, skinny alleys, over small bridges, and through school yards, all while laughing and snapping pictures of quaint doors and windows…and lots of laundry-on-the-line shots. It was fun being lost in Venice. And, oh, so memorable.

We eventually found the shop.

While there, I got two masks. (Well, actually, ThrillCam and I got the black and white mask, my mother bought me the wonderful colored mask.) It was one of the few splurges we made on the trip.

(Photos taken with my iphone…lighting and color balance are not all that great…sorry.)

Those masks made a couple moves with us and were permanently on display in each house until September of 2008.

In September of 2008, Hurricane Ike was barreling his way toward our house.

During the years we’ve lived close to Houston, we’ve evacuated three times thanks to hurricanes and hurricane threats. By the time Ike showed his pretty face, I had decided I would not pack every precious item I owned in the car. To be honest, I didn’t think Ike would be that big of a deal (I figured it would turn at the last minute, like every other hurricane I’ve prepared for), so I took treasured items from downstairs and packed them in plastic boxes and placed them up high. My biggest fear was flooding…IF, Ike even hit our area, which was very doubtful.

Well, Ike hit with a vengeance.  We sustained a very small amount of damage, nothing like our neighbors a few miles south of us in Galveston.

Once we returned home and the electricity had been turned back on, I began unpacking and redecorating.

I never found my masks, though.
They were lost.

For four years, I fretted over what had become of those masks (and a photo album of Ireland). Occasionally, I would do another search in all the places I thought I would have put them…to no avail.

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Well, just the other day, as we were preparing for a garage sale, my wonderful ThrillCam found my beloved masks!

(And many other treasures I had forgotten about!!)

After four years, I can feel my breathing settling, finally, to a more relaxed state. I am at peace, once again.

So, what’s the moral of this story?

It’s good to clean out and purge closets every 4 or 5 years.

You never know what you’ll find!

E.

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